


Break Out- General Hux x Reader

by HydrogenHero2187



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Gen, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:05:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydrogenHero2187/pseuds/HydrogenHero2187
Summary: You've known Armitage Hux for years, but from your years of living underground after joining the Resistance you haven't seen him in eleven years, and he's the last thing on your mind during your dangerous mission to rescue a valued technician from Starkiller base. When you get stuck in a tough situation after being captured, how will you react? Why is Armitage, the cocky but shy boy you fell in love with, working for the First Order of all things?? Does he feel the same way? What's the origin of the strange noise you keep hearing that no one else can? And most importantly: will you stay with him, or will you break out once again?





	1. Concerning the Break In

(Requested by no one)

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: some angst, TINY bit of swearing, implied sexual happenings *cough cough*

\---

 

     Armitage Hux was definitely an overachiever. He was competitive with too many people, obsessive-compulsive about too many things, had outrageous mood swings over things that mattered too little, and had too much pride for his own good. One might say it would be his downfall, and you would agree with that one hundred percent, because you had years-worth of personal experience with that delightful trait of his.

     Hux had been in your grade at the Arkanis Academy, and he was always competing with you to be the best, which you took with a grain of salt. He had a rough home life, you knew: born from an affair that went nowhere, raised by a father who was always working, and living in an actual hellhole. Sure, the Academy was a good school but it was one of the worst the places you could think of to house a growing kid, especially one as volatile as Hux. So you, being the compassionate person you were, had stoically stuck by his side as his best and only friend, even though it took him a while to get used to you. But you had eventually gotten to him, and then the two of you were inseparable.

     In your junior years of high school, he had confessed his attraction to you, and in the school garden (which was really just a ten-by-ten square of fenced-in twiggy bushes, various wilting flowers, and dying trees) the night before graduation, he had kissed you with a fervor you didn't think possible and told you he'd always love you, no matter where you went or how long you were apart from him. He was so tentative with you as you lead his hands down your body, and that night he paid careful attention to your every need, and you had never been happier.

     You remembered how bittersweet it felt to see him walk across that platform and receive his diploma. He looked back at you with anxiety in his scared amber eyes, and you smiled and motioned him to go forward. You had never been more proud of him, even though the tears in your own eyes prevented you from seeing most of it clearly.

     He had joined the Imperial Navy after graduation, and you were genuinely sad to see him go with his father from the school, but you had your own life to lead, and you knew the spunky ginger could take care of himself.

\---

 

     Eleven years later, you were a highly-regarded member of the Resistance and had been tasked with breaking into the dreaded Starkiller base of the First Order and extracting a technician taken prisoner in a skirmish on a nearby moon, and so far everything was going according to plan.

     Huffing in frustration, you blew yet another stray piece of (Y/H/C) hair out of your eyes as you marched with a small regiment of stormtroopers down a brightly-lit hallway towards the holding cells of the notorious weapon. You had seen First Order ships before (after a decade in the Resistance, you had seen quite a lot of things), but being inside a fully-operational vessel the size of a large moon was something entirely new to you, and you had to resist the urge to look around and gape. Nothing had made you as uncomfortable as the unnatural aura of the the base. Everything was so.... synchronized. Nothing and no one was out of place, every color was solid and crisp; even the separations between shadows and the piercing, chemical light were direct and exact, like someone had drawn them there with a ruler. It was unnerving to see such utter conformity, and you tried to remain calm as you neared the cells.

     "Alright soldiers, branch out and check on the prisoners." the captain ordered, and you followed your side of the group to the right side of the corridor, walking in measured steps to number 2319 and opening it, smiling under your helmet as the bruised face of Alm Grimbot, the very man you were sent to retrieve, looked up at you in fear.

     Kneeling next to his shaking, broken being, you gently wrapped his arm over your shoulders and hoisted him up, whispering, "Don't worry, I'm here to rescue you. Just play along."

     You walked out with him slowly, the man shuffling beside you, and snapped to attention in front of the waiting commanding officer. Once you got past this part, you were basically home-free.  
   
     "Sir, the prisoner requires medical attention. The Supreme Leader still has a purpose for him. Shall I escort him to the bacta tank operators?" you stated in a calm, average-sounding voice, grinning as he nodded and waved you down the hallway.

     The only thing you had to do was get on the ship waiting for you in the launch hanger. That was all. You could almost taste your impending victory.

     And then you saw him.

     He was taller and stiffer than you remembered him, and gaunter, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn't been there eleven years ago, but his hair was the same coppery hue it always had, and those piercing blue-gray eyes hadn't changed a bit, except that they were harder than when you were both eighteen. You did a double take, but your pause in such an open area as a bay was a potentially fatal error, and you lifted Alm into your arms, sprinting to the ship as fast as you could. You had to complete your mission before anything else.

     Shots began ringing out around you, and the space crafts around you sizzled with the impacts of the laser blasts, but you kept going, tucking the injured man further into your frame to protect him from the bullets. You could hear Hux's distinct British accent yelling something in the background, but you shook your head. He couldn't be part of the First Order...

     A ricochet blast struck you in the shoulder and a pained shout escaped your lips, echoing through the cavernous room as you stumbled forward anyway, the stormtroopers and Hux himself getting closer and closer to you.

     The Resistance ship drew closer and closer, hovering a few feet above the ground in wait. But you knew you couldn't make it, not with a wounded shoulder and a platoon of soldiers right on your tail in hot pursuit. So with your last bit of strength, you heaved the terrified technician up into the open cargo hold of the vessel and watched it go into hyperspace right then and there, slumping down onto a crate and lifting your helmet off slowly, the blurry, panicked face of your old almost-lover fading to dark eyelids as the world blacked out around you.

 

\---

 

     Armitage Hux was perfectly happy with his current life. All traces of his past had been obliterated by the redhead, and he had never been more successful. Yes, the job could be a tad stressful at times, and yes, people all over the universe wanted to string him up on a tree with his own intestines as the rope, but these were things he could easily manage and cope with.

 

     What he couldn't easily manage and cope with was how utterly  incompetent the people he lead were, and that was why he and a squadron of troopers were marching through the vessel hanger to have a nice chat with a mechanic who thought it was a good idea to lie on his resumé. It was a surprise to him as much as the rest of the soldiers to see a rogue stormtroopers running like the world was ending with a beaten slip of a man wearing prison garb clutched to her chest, but he was the Armitage Hux, so he put two and two together (damaged man in dungeon garb plus trooper lost in the launch bay every soldier knew like the back of their hand equaled Resistance escape attempt) and started firing pursuit.

 

     "After them!" he roared, more concerned about how his reputation would look after a successful breakout by a prisoner than where his troops were firing, and when a shot rang true and hit the runner he froze at the sound of the scream. He knew that voice. He could have recognized that voice anywhere, even from thirty feet away in a gigantic launch bay with angry blaster sounds sounding out all around him, and he shook his head. You couldn't be with the Resistance...

 

     Hux and his men were gaining on the now-slowing sprinter, and a smirk appeared on his face when he saw what he was almost positive was you stop in front of a flying ship. There was no possible way to get in there at that angle and in that condition; he knew that for a fact.

 

     Shock enveloped his features as he watched the prisoner be thrown up into the ship and then the ship disappear, leaving the woozy accomplice behind as they threw off their helmet and--

 

     Hux's face contorted into a look of pure and unadulterated horror as you crumpled in a heap on the metal floor, (Y/H/C) hair falling onto your pale face as you lied there motionlessly.

 

     "(Y/N)..?" he whispered in quiet mortification, desperately wanting to believe it wasn't you in front of him.

 

     You were almost exactly the same as when he had last seen you all those years ago, and a dull ache began thrumming an ugly rhythm in his stomach. Your hair was still a gorgeous (Y/H/C), you hadn't really grown or shrunk, your eyes were still that mesmerizing (Y/E/C), even if they were a little more guarded than they had been while you were in school.... Everything he had tried so hard to suppress in the recesses of his soul came flooding back up to him: the persistence you had shown to get him to be your friend, the infectious way you laughed, how soft your lips and skin were when he kissed you in the prickly grass of the Academy garden...  
       
     The general zoned back in to see you blink with heavy eyelids and he kicked into overdrive, lunging forward and running to your side, frantically pulling your limp body into his lap as he knelt beside you. "WILL ONE OF YOU DAMN IDIOTS CALL THE MED BAY, FOR GOD'S SAKE?!?" he exploded, stroking your face with a trembling hand. "It's going to be fine, (Y/N).... oh God, why are you even here?!" the ginger groaned in sorrow. "Just stay awake for me..."

 

     A choked sob left the mouth of the male as your eyes closed, and he rested his forehead on yours, rocking you back and forth as stormtroopers rushed like crazed ants around him to get help. "Please don't leave me..."


	2. Concerning the Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your injury is worse than anyone thought it would be (yourself included), what will happen to you? Will you survive? How will General Hux handle it? What will happen when (or if) you wake up?

Dying was an interesting feeling and not one you particularly enjoyed. You didn’t know what exactly caused the event to start its course in your body, but it was an unmistakable feeling, even if you had never experienced it before. That shot through your shoulder must’ve hit something far more important than you thought, but thinking was difficult to do while you faded in and out of focus. You were swimming in your own head as the lights and forms and sounds fluctuated and morphed around you like meaningless, indistinguishable clouds of color in a vast sea of the meaningless and indistinguishable. It felt like you were being pulled back and forth between two dimensions, the one in your mind and the one outside, and every time you fell into the former it was a little harder to drag yourself back to the latter and stay there.

When you had first joined the Resistance as a stubborn, hot-headed nineteen year old, you scoffed at the people who were afraid of death. You didn't now. Now you understood the haunted glazes that resided permanently over the eyes of survivors who barely made it, understood the spastic jolts of pure, absolute terror that plagued some of your colleagues when death was mentioned or they were in a situation that brought them back to those moments where they very nearly lost their lives. You comprehended the unrivaled struggle of desperately trying to keep breathing while your being wanted to do the opposite. Everything that you had once shrugged off as a myth was thrown almost obscenely back into your face as you continued to twitch in and out of existence, and the only thing you were clinging to in that inky whirlpool of hopelessness and fear was

\---

“General Hux,” the medical officer explained for the seventeenth time that hour, eyes facing forward and body snapped to a rigid attention in front of the slumped frame of the red-haired leader. “the Resistance infiltrator is in critical condition, meaning no one except medical personnel can go into the room until the patient is brought to a stable condition.”

Armitage Hux nodded silently, his gaze blearily focused on an insignificant portion of a spotless white wall a few feet away and his mind only vaguely listening to what the doctor had to say. He knew exactly what he was saying, as a matter of fact; he had listened to the same exact message one hundred and ninety eight times over the past three days while sitting in the reception area of the med bay. What he had not heard was that you were doing alright or even improving slightly; the news seemed to be getting worse with every update he received.

“What is the injury?” he asked in a hoarse, empty voice that was very unlike his normal, commanding one; his blue-gray eyes were glassy and slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep, and a look of rare vulnerability enveloped his folded-in being. “Or have you still not identified it?”

The doctor winced in preparation for the signature General Hux rage-disciplining. “Yes, sir, we have, but you won’t be happy about it.”

Hux finally lifted his gaze from the near-distance and slowly looked the man in the eyes, and the unspoken plea that rested in the silvery orbs of the general convinced the medic to reveal the true severity of the damage that had been done.

“The bullet that shot the patient was faultily manufactured and made with the wrong materials for its type, so instead of cauterizing the wound like it should’ve, it leaked a dangerous amount of poisonous chemicals into the bloodstream. We’ve already checked the rest of the blasters for the same kind of bullet and contacted the company who produced the shot, and you’ll be pleased to know there have been no more found in any First Order bases.”

Armitage said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly and a sharp glint appeared in the once-vacant spheres. “Can you fix it?” he said in such a quiet tone it sounded like it had been spoken from miles away.

The doctor’s brow wrinkled. “Could you repeat that, sir?”

Slamming the chair he had been in for the past three days into the wall with the force of a hurricane, General Hux stood instantaneously and towered menacingly over the wide-eyed officer like a tidal wave about to decimate a coastal village. Fury radiated from his body, and any powerlessness that had resided in him was replaced at the speed of sound with a crackling, blazing anger that lit up his person immediately. The air seemed to vibrate around him from the sheer power of his wrath, and the now-fading booming noise of the chair’s contact with the wall was the only sound in the room until the fiery-haired general spoke again:

“I said, can. _You. **FIX**. **IT.**_ ” he roared explosively, fists clenched and shaking at his sides as the terrified medic took a few stumbling steps back and nodded frantically.

  
“Yes, General, we can; I swear we can!! We just need a little more time, I promise!!!” he quaked, his shoulder raised between himself and the enraged leader as a meager defense mechanism.

Sighing, Hux sat back down limply, resting his face in the crook of his elbow and morosely waving the man away. He felt like someone had stuck a syringe in his arm and removed all the energy from his body; it had been eleven years since he had seen you before what happened three days ago, and even though he had lived without you perfectly well during that decade, he felt as though he couldn’t now that he knew you were alive and knew you were just as mortal as anyone else. Back in school, you had always been so confident in yourself and in what you could do, and he had never stopped admiring that about you; back then, you had seemed invincible to him, and now that you were dyi-- no, he wouldn’t, he COULDN’T think like that; now that you were in such an unstable condition, all he wanted to do was keep you by his side and protect you from anything that could take you away from him.

He knew with absolute certainty that if you died it would be his fault. He had ordered the armed pursuit to keep up his ridiculous ego; they didn’t need that technician more than a grocery store needed car parts! And even if he would have still given the command to give chase, perhaps if he would have signed off on that inefficient, wasteful request from the mechanics to get rid of all the spare weaponry so more resources could be allocated to star ship advancement you wouldn’t have poison invading your body right now. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many decisions he could have made in the past to prevent this accident, and he had to go and make all of the wrong ones, leaving you on life support surrounded by doctors and nurses and him stranded alone in the silent reception lobby of the medical bay, praying to anyone out in the universe who would listen that you would survive. Never in his life had Armitage felt so extraordinarily helpless, and he hated it with a burning passion.

The sound of an opening door shocked him out of his thoughts, and a stunned Hux looked up to see a relieved smile on the face of the medical officer, who motioned towards the long hallway of hospital rooms beyond the white opening. “The patient is ready for visitors now.”

\---

A groan escaped your lips as you sat up in your hospital bed and groggily looked around through confused, squinted eyes. “Ugh, what the actual hell just happened…?” you mumbled, slow bursts of memory from your attempted break out pushing through the haze in your mind to be recollected in the same sort of pace.

You heard a door open and stared at the familiar shape of a person walking in, your vision still blurry but getting better by the minute. A cool hand lightly cupped your face and another gently pushed you back onto the pristine white mattress, and your racing heartbeat calmed when you heard the sound of a lilting (if slightly shaky) British accent say: “Ssh, no no no, (Y/N), stay still… you’ve been unconscious for three days, love..” Sighing in relief that Hux was with you and you were actually ALIVE, you did as he asked and remained on the pillow, trying to steady your rapid breathing as you gradually remembered more and more of what happened while he stroked your (Y/H/C) hair with trembling fingers. You leaned into him slightly until you finally, FINALLY remembered what you had seen him doing before you were shot, and your eyes widened, vision finally clear enough to see your surroundings.

Shaking your head in a mortified panic, you rolled away from him and swung yourself off the bed, stabilizing yourself on the walls as Hux rounded the corner of the sleeping furniture, a swirling pool of emotions plain to see in his horrified eyes as he slowly cornered you.

“Love, you need to get back in bed.. All this motion after the state your body was just in isn’t healthy for you..” he warned, slowly walking towards you as you swayed drunkenly against a wall.

Your heartbeat sped up dramatically and you looked at him with a betrayed expression on your pale face. “Hux, you stay right there, y’hear me? S-Stay where you are. I don't want you here.”

Armitage struggled to keep a straight face, but his heart broke a little at your words. He knew where this was going. “Love, the doctors told me they heard you calling for me in your sleep.”

Shrinking back into the shadowed corner, you shook your head faster, wildly looking around for any kind of escape from the advancing general. “That doesn’t mean anything. You were just the last person I saw before I blacked out. **_STOP MOVING, ARMITAGE_**.” you yelled hysterically, hot tears building in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to control the anger and grief bubbling inside you, ready to erupt at any time.

Hux finally paused in his approach, looking at your quivering, sickly form with guilt at his inability to have prevented the incident and what he knew with absolute certainty you were going to say next. “(Y/N), before you say anything else, please just--”

“ _No_ , Hux. YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS BETTER.” you shouted, raising yourself up to your full height and stepping forward, the ferocity visible in your (Y/E/C) eyes as you accusingly stabbed your index finger into his chest. “Why are you with the _FIRST ORDER_?!?!? You could’ve gone _ANYWHERE_ with your credentials, so why did you pick _THEM_!?”

Narrowing his eyes, the general held his ground and gripped your wrist, forcing you to lower your pointing finger. “The First Order is helping to keep peace throughout the galaxy and has been very successful under Supreme Leader Snoke’s guidance.”

“The First Order has been forcibly taking control of already-peaceful planets and star systems by killing innocent people for as long as it’s been around!! SO MANY LIVES have been needlessly lost because of ‘Supreme Leader’ Snoke’s obsession with ruling everything and everyone!!” you argued back, trying and failing to break Hux’s grasp on your arm.

Armitage scowled and shook his head, his hold on you tightening unconsciously as he refused to look at you. The ginger once again backed you up to the wall before answering in an vexed voice, “No. The Supreme Leader is a just ruler.. He just.. he just has a few ruthless methods to deal with opposition is all.”

When you started to raise your other hand he seized it as well, his hands encircling your wrists as he trapped them against the wall at your back. You could hear his heavy, uneven breathing as he fought to keep himself composed under your probing.

You sighed a sad, little sigh at the man you still knew like the back of your hand and tilted your head so he’d have to look you in the eye, and as he lifted his gaze up to meet yours, he looked like the same lost boy you met in grade school all those years ago.

“Hux, are the only emotions you have left just rage and disappointment? Have they changed you _that_  much? Hell, you can barely look me in the eye anymore! Do you even remember me..?” you questioned in a quiet voice, looking at his expressionless face dolefully. When he didn’t answer, you exhaled dejectedly and tried to move away, only to end up in a tight hug.

“I missed you...” he mumbled, a tear falling down his cheek and landing on the top of your head as he buried his nose in your hair. “I missed you so, so much.. Please don't leave...."

You stood there, shocked, before wrapping your arms around the trembling red head and smiling discreetly. “I missed you too…”

Armitage froze when you started to break the embrace, looking both panicked and desperate at the same time, a look so foreign on his face that it made your heart clench. It made you wonder how long he’d been waiting for you, wonder the emotional strain he’d been under to cause such an uncharacteristic change, and most importantly: how much he had been affected by the mind-distorting ways of the notorious First Order. You stifled back a choked sob and smiled sadly and pulled him back in, holding him tighter as you rested your forehead on his shoulder and struggled to hold tears in for what seemed like the hundredth time during that encounter.

Slowly, you felt Armitage calm down and stop shaking, and he gently lifted you up and carried you to the bed, setting you down as softly as possible and then moving to sit on the chair next to the high-tech piece of medical equipment. Twining your arms around his waist, however, you lightly pulled him back to you, resting your head on his chest as he reclined back and stroked your hair lazily, watching you sleep through half-closed eyes before drifting off himself, clutching your smaller frame to his own tightly.

\---

Across the galaxy, Supreme Leader Snoke smiled deviously upon his throne. What a delightful coincidence it was to see you again..! How wonderful it would be to finally finish what he started all those years ago. How very, very wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's chapter 2 officially done!!! I hope you guys like it!! Remember that you can always request and I love reading your comments; if you have any suggestions I'm all ears!! Have a great day :)


	3. Concerning the Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmm.... don't you recognize that sound from somewhere?

        It was still dark when you woke up; the simulated U.V. lights usually began warming up at four in the morning and provided the illusion of a sunrise at around six, and because the gentle hum of the high-tech bulbs was silent you deduced it was around two or three. You normally got up at around five, partially because you liked to train for a bit before others began trickling into the makeshift Resistance gym and partially because you still hadn’t been able to shake the tight schedule you followed all those years ago at the academy, despite how hard you tried to snap out of it.    

        Sitting up, you felt a light pressure around your waist and turned, perplexed, to see Armitage sleeping soundly with his arms wrapped around your torso, securing you to his chest. A small smile flitted across your face as you looked down at him. This was the most peaceful you had seen him since you were caught, and maybe even since your graduation. He had always had trouble sleeping for as long as you had known him; Hux’s mind was always on high-alert and he could never stop worrying about an unfinished task until it was taken care of to his satisfaction, which meant he handled everything he was involved with. That was probably how he got to his position, you deduced, your gaze still on his peaceful form. As you started to slide back down onto the bed, a quiet noise slowly began invading the room, and you stopped, eyes narrowing and brow wrinkling in confusion. A slight flame of recognition started to burn in the back of your skull; you knew that sound from somewhere, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it…    

        You sat back up once again, gently replacing yourself with a nearby pillow in Hux’s arms as you silently pushed away from the bed and further into the dark room, shivering in your hospital gown. As you neared the door, the noise grew louder but stayed low enough in volume that it wouldn’t be able to wake anyone else up. It was so familiar to you… You didn’t remember ever hearing something like it before, but a small, suppressed part of your subconscious whispered otherwise, and so you opened the sliding doors and walked out into the vast, First Order hallway, counting your steps for reference.    

        While in your third year of school, you had to take the mandatory Pre-Defense and Weapons-Training class taught by a group of ex-military men who were almost certainly ex-convicts, and while putting away the small training blades in the supply closet you heard a faint struggle coming from the empty room connected to the storage area. Immediately, you sprang into action and barged into the adjoining region to see a small, scrawny boy holding a knife to the throat of a shaking first-year student from a planet in the Outer Rim who had been picked on for his abnormal height since he arrived. Before the smaller boy could make a move, you grabbed him and pinned him against the closest wall by his throat, knocking the weapon from his hands and kicking it to a corner of the room. Fortunately for the attacker, one of your teachers also heard the commotion and walked into to see you landing a sharp right hook to the boy’s jaw. The teacher patted you on the back and complimented you on your form before sending you to the headmaster’s office, despite the testimony of both you and the original victim. You vividly remembered that long walk down the gray hallways that seemed to increase in size and magnitude as you neared your destination, remembered how confident you started out at the beginning of your trip and how utterly terrified you were at the end as you approached the large black doors and tentatively pulled them open. You were so scared of the journey itself that you hardly remembered what the headmaster actually told you. That was exactly how you felt as you slowly made your way down the pitch-black hallway outside the medbay, only this time you didn’t know what your destination would be. The sound got louder as the hallway got bigger and the door you left from got smaller. It filled the area with a power and reverberated off of the walls, wherever those were.

        Twenty steps in you couldn’t see anything anymore, not even your own hands. But all you cared about was that god damn noise. It was driving you crazy; it was itching at the back of your brain and burning through your head as it got louder and louder.

        Thirty steps in and any idea of where the ceiling or floor or walls should be went out the window completely; you felt like you were falling down a hole through the Earth that only grew as you kept going downwards, but you reminded yourself that it didn’t matter if you found out what that sound was.

        You felt something pointy graze your shoulder as you were walking and you swore at the sharp burst of pain that blasted through your nerves. “Son of a three-headed Genosian wartflower..!” you cursed under your breath, wincing and rubbing your inflamed shoulder before starting off again.

        Fifty steps in and you had to walk with your hands over your ears. You could feel the sound vibrating through the air and through your body and through the world, and it pounded against your throbbing ear drums like waves in a hurricane: relentlessly and forcibly. The pitch was now increasing along with the volume; it wasn’t a droning anymore but a piercing, vicious shrieking that penetrated your being like a freshly-sharpened sword slicing through silk. The velvety nothingness of the world around you only aided in the noise’s quest to destroy you; with nothing else to focus on but the sound, failure was almost guaranteed, but you kept pressing on until you felt a warm hand yank you back into the light and away from the noise until you could see your surroundings and the noise began quickly fading away.

        “(Y/N)?! What the hell are you doing out here?” Hux exclaimed in an exasperated voice that seemed to hide some other indistinguishable emotion beneath it.

\---

        Armitage never dreamed when he slept. Maybe it was because his brain didn’t know how to react during that period of rest because he hardly ever partook in it or maybe it was because his own logic had murdered all but a sliver of his imagination, but regardless of the cause his brain rarely shut down long enough to get a dream going. That didn’t mean that he didn’t have nightmares, however. Not in the slightest. Most of the time they were about his job and what would happen if the Resistance somehow took over, other times they concerned his own sanity, and sometimes they were about you; what you were doing, how you were doing, where you were, who, exactly, you were with… The great and mighty General Hux was known for being fearless, cold, calculative, and ridiculously calm, and that was how he preferred to be seen. If anyone caught a glimpse into his mind, though, they would see an entirely different story. His mind was an absolute wreck, especially when a memory of you shot through his barriers and blasted to the front and center of his brain. One of his biggest fears was invading a planet and killing you on accident, or finding you mangled and dead on a battlefield, or worse. His nightmares only grew worse over time to the point he medicated himself with the maximum dosage of things like melatonin, benzodiazepines, benadryl, antihistamines, and valerian on a regular basis just so he could get a few hours of rest without interruption from his demons. The killer headaches, increased aggression and irritability, periods of depression, dizziness, and weight loss were annoying, yes, but the bacta tanks could handle the physical side effects well enough for him to push through the emotional ones. The night he was finally able to see you was the first time in two years he had been able to sleep without medical aid. Lying there on the hospital bed with you was like being on an LSD trip; bliss flooded his body as he watched you drift off and snuggle backwards into his chest. You looked so relaxed, so serene, and that same sense of tranquility slowly invaded his anxious mind; as soon as he heard your breathing deepen, he was out like a light, and no nightmares plagued his slumber. Everything felt right in those hours, and Armitage could’ve stayed like that forever. At least, he could’ve until the pillow you replaced yourself with lost its heat and once again felt like a pillow.

        A disgruntled frown appeared on his face as he groggily woke and sat up, his body feeling much colder than he remembered it being a few hours ago when he was still semiconscious.

        “(Y/N)..?” he mumbled, his sleep-blurred vision gradually clearing as he looked around the still-dark hospital room and then down to what he had been hugging. The general’s upper lip raised slightly like he had encountered an unpleasant odor as he held up the pillow out in front of him. “..the bloody hell is this….?!”    

        Despite his sleep-induced mental fogginess, Hux put two and two together very, very quickly; the male might’ve been in a state remarkably close to drunkenness due to exhaustion, but his brain still operated at twice the speed of most fully-awake people on the base. As he exited the med bay and briskly walked through the various hallways to find you, he ran through the possible scenarios that could have caused you to leave. Option one was that you were sleepwalking like you did when you were stressed during your Academy years, but he doubted that one. Somnambulation was rare anyway, and given the angular turns and sudden forks in the First Order station’s corridors, he most likely would’ve stumbled over you by now. Option two was that you were extracted from the room by the Resistance, but he crossed that one out as well. Break in attempts were virtually impossible, and you hadn’t been there long enough for any of the rebels to make a fool-proof plan to get you out, so it couldn’t be them. Option three was that someone else had taken you, but that, too, was unlikely for the sole reason of how terrified and respected his authority was throughout the First Order. Option four was you had to go to the bathroom and got lost, which was actually the most reasonable of his ideas so far, but there was a bathroom located in the medical dock that was pretty plain to see at any time of day. That left him with option number five, his absolute least favorite thought, because you wouldn’t try to escape him, would you..? Was there someone else in your life you loved more that him...? He understood; it had been about a decade since he’d seen you, but the rest of the idea sparked a tiny flame of betrayal and pure, unadulterated fear in his soul, and his pace increased slowly until he was at a sprint, winding in and out of the seemingly millions of halls in a desperate search to find you before you hurt yourself or broke his mending heart again. He wanted to hit himself at how selfish and distraught he was, but he knew with grim surety he wouldn’t be able to handle losing you again.    

        “(Y/N)?!” he called out, stopping in the main hallway he had originally started in and listening for an answer in vain. “Where are you??!?”    

        There was no response, and he sighed, raking a hand through his messy hair and slumping over slightly.    

        A ripping sound vaguely sounded from ahead, followed by a cuss that only could’ve been spoken by you, and he shot back up, once again moving at break-neck speed towards where he heard you.    

        The main corridor was much darker than it usually was, but he was still able to clearly see you struggling forward with your hands pressed over your ears and tears streaming from your eyes as quickly as blood ran from your hurt shoulder. Regardless of how strange your actions were, Hux latched onto your arm and began dragging you back down the corridor to a place he could assess your wounds.    

      “(Y/N)?! What the hell are you doing out here?” he exclaimed, his eyes full of concern and relief. “Good God, I’ve been looking all over for you!! What happened to your shoulder??” He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand. “Nevermind, you need to get back to the medbay before this,” He gestured to the gash on top of the original lesion and cringed slightly. “gets infected.”    

        “Hux, did you hear it too?” you questioned with a far-off glaze in your eyes. “That noise, did you hear it?”    

       Armitage’s brow furrowed. “What noise? What did you hear?”    

       “How could you not hear it? It filled the entire ha--” You cut yourself short, inhaling to steady yourself before saying, “Nothing. I.. I didn’t hear anything. Must’ve been sleepwalking again.”

        Hux wasn’t an idiot. He knew that what you corrected your statement to was a blatant lie, but he let it slide because you needed medical attention more than he needed a true explanation.    

        “Come along, then. Let’s go,” he announced, scooping you up bridal-style and walking with you back down the hallway, ignoring his own flustered heartbeat to tend to your injuries and pushing back the odd feeling the two of you were being watched from… everywhere..? 

\---

       Snoke cursed under his breath, a furious scowl etching into the deep wrinkles of his face as he watched then walk away. His general was brilliant, but his meddling was growing old. Oh well. The Sith Lord had time, oh he had time. And if he played his cards right he'd get you alone and finally lure you into his clutches, and then, then he'd be able to finish what he started all those years ago.           

        He just had to wait. And that's what he'd do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that took four months longer than expected!! I'm so so so so sorry about that; I had no idea where I was going with it but I figured it out and we're back on track!!! I really hope you like it! The next chapter will be fluffier, I promise!! :)


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